


Valse Sentimentale

by mrssolo



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, Reincarnation, Reylo - Freeform, Valse Sentimentale makes me cry in fetal position, reylo au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 15:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16390076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrssolo/pseuds/mrssolo
Summary: "Every time Rey took the subway home, he was there, playing the violin. He always played the same song.Sometimes at night she dreamed that she was at a masquerade, dancing to that song with a masked gentleman, waltzing in the center of an illuminated hall, with everyone looking at her and at him. The knight kissed his hand at the end of the waltz.When she woke up, she felt the strange impression that it was not a dream, but a memory. "• Alternative Universe





	Valse Sentimentale

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it

She was late. She overslept and didn’t hear the alarm clock ringing. And because of that, she lost her lift with Finn, a friend who studied in the same university and lived down the street. She must take the subway now. A giant ant farm of people disputing every square inch, overwhelmed with appointments and responsibilities, just like her, and rushed to arrive somewhere, just like her. And she is late

As she arrives at the station, rushing, without seeing the people in front of her and on her side, she bumps onto a man. She recognizes him as she lifts her head and looks to his face. Tanned, straight hair covering his ears, tall, light skin; a big nose, beautiful, sad and oblivious brown and green eyes; dressed in black from head to toe, as always.

She knows him, although he doesn’t know her. He’s the violin player from the subway. Every time Rey uses the subway to return home from work, around seven p.m., he was there, playing the violin. People passing by were leaving some changes in the instrument case. He didn’t say anything, he just played, with perfection, with commitment, admirably.

He always played the same theme.

Sometimes, at night, she dreamt she was at a masquerade ball, in another era, dancing that theme with a masked gentleman, waltzing at the centre of a bright hall, everybody looking at them. The gentleman kissed her hand at the end of the waltz. When she woke up, she had the strange feeling that it wasn’t a dream, but a memory.

This dream was happening for three months, by now. The exact same time, coincidently, he started to play the violin there and she was trying to discover what was the theme’s name. She knew it was something very silly, but she was puzzled by that music, from the beginning. She was listening to that song for the first time, but it was like she knew it from a long time ago.

Perhaps from her dreams. Perhaps she had always dreamed with the waltz and the masked gentleman before, however, she had forgotten. At least that was the normal explanation. In a wild thought, she had questioned herself if those weren’t memories from a past life, woken by that theme which, probably, must have been important and striking for her past self.

Meanwhile, she disregarded that theory. She was not sceptic, but she thought that reincarnation was impossible. She believed, firmly, that existed some kind of an afterlife, something that she cannot defined, out of the boundaries of any religious explanation. She just believed in another existential dimension, where everybody went, a spiritual world, who knew, and people deceased would remain there forever. She didn’t want to die to discover; she was just thinking about those theories.

Maybe the truth is in front of her – literally – and she didn’t notice that before. She created a fantasy with the violin player, because, somehow, she is attracted to him. And as he plays the violin, she thinks he’s handsome and romantic. And then her subconscious created that fantasy. The dream in an invention from her mind. The theme he plays is the waltz they dance.

She had never seen the masked gentleman’s face, but some physical features are similar between him and the violin player. The height, the manly posture, the black outfit, the dark brown straight hair – although the masked man in her dreams had longer hair.

— Is there any problem? — he asks.

Rey blinked as she abandoned the limbo where was diving. How much time had passed while she was staring at the violin player? Rey asked herself, wondering if she didn’t have a stupid face. Although she knew the answer to the second question too well. She gave a step back and asked for his apologies. Her face was steaming. Her cheeks were blushing and then she couldn’t look at him anymore. She was so ashamed that she wanted to run and to disappear.

He doesn’t say anything. He passes by her and goes away. Rey waited until he’s gone, she sighted and lamented herself. She was playing stupid in front of that man, staring, stuck in useless thoughts. And even had her heart broken because he went away… But why?

She was so nervous that didn’t even notice they talked for the first time. Now that he was gone, Rey is angry for what she did and how she did it: totally different from what she had imagined.

The violin player largely occupies her daily thoughts. After college, she would go to work and from work she would return home by subway, as every day. Except Sundays and Thursdays – strangely he wasn’t there on Thursdays –, Rey sees him constantly at the same schedule, near a column, playing the theme that she still needs to find out what it was. She always refused lifts from co-workers or even taking a cab when she had the money to do it, just to be there, at the subway, to listen and see him playing for two or three minutes.

Two or three minutes was the time she had for him. She knew he was already there before she arrives and that he would remain there after she leaves. It’s her favourite part of the day. Besides being the first time that she ever “talked” to him, it’s the first time that they see each other on that scheduled, so early. “He was there the whole day?”, she asks. He wasn’t with the violin case, but it couldn’t be very far. She likes to believe he is always with his violin.

As a cold shower, Rey remembers she is late. So, she runs hastily, but she won’t arrive on time for her first class. Now she is two times late! She lost too much time with that craziness and she didn’t get anywhere. It was embarrassing, they didn’t talk very much, he was poorly impressed by her and probably they wouldn’t speak with each other never again. She also believes that the violin player is inaccessible.

In fact, Rey spends most of her time imagining things about the violin player. She’s been creating a personality for him, almost like a robe. She barely pays attention to the class.

He is lonely and miserable. He loves classical music. She imagines that he only plays the violin, but he also could play the guitar and the piano, and he puts on his music all of his feelings, emotions and disappointments. He writes music, she is almost certain of it, however, he is reluctant to show his compositions.

She figures that he is anti-social. He is not married or engaged to anybody, because he doesn’t were a ring. He likes the colour black, Japanese food and tea. He doesn’t take coffee. She thinks he has no family, just like her; not alive, at least. She barely perceived his voice because how nervous she was, but she remembers it gave her the chills. She tried to imagine him singing, but it’s hard to paint the violin player in her mind singing. Only can imagine him playing the violin, and the piano.

She strongly believes that the violin player had his heart broken. A love disappointment or the loss of a great love, who knows. That’s why he always plays that sentimental music, with that violin that peals her ears and make her feel his pain, vividly, in her own heart. The frustrated, hard and painful cry from a lover who cannot be with the one he loves. That melody carries the heavy load of sorrows felt by those who suffer with love denied.

But this is only her suspicion. She knows that can be wrong; in fact, she wants to be. She likes the mystery, and that man is one, certainly. She would give anything to unveil his secrets, to know him deeply.

However, Rey falls into herself and diminishes her expectations. That man is impossible, inaccessible. That’s a fact. She doesn’t know his name, he doesn’t care for her, he doesn’t waste his time imagining how is her life, instead of taking care of his own. The right thing to do is to concentrate on her own problems, let the violin player aside, for every time she thinks of him, she gets depressed.

The day flows slowly. Rey wants to die of boredom. She tries so hard to focus in classes and afterwards at work, and her unjust reward is a headache.

She finishes her office hour. Her only wish is to be at home and rest her feet on a bowl filled with hot water. But before that, she needs to take the subway. Rey decides to take another route to leave the station. She will walk more, but she won’t torture herself by seeing again her violin player inaccessible and suffer about it.

That’s why she loved the music he played so much and at night she dreamt with it. Because she also feels that sorrow and that longing to belong to someone else. And that would never happen, not with the violin player, at least; and that’s why her frustration only grows every day.

Before she goes to bed, Rey feels the imperious need to cry. She cries and sobs so hard that she loses her breath. And she cannot understand why she is crying. The violin player inaccessibility it’s not enough reason. Rey has been abandoned and betrayed before by those who she had loved so deeply, and she never cried that way for them, much more for a violin player without name and who plays strangely the same theme.

— Why am I crying? — she asks herself, leaving the room, walking in her home. Tears still rolling down her cheeks, with no end in sight.

She moans, her chest hurts, her hands trembles and her knees collapses, taking her down. She’s out of breath and she needs to take a deep inspiration not to faint. Her pain is emotional and physical.

Rey shrinks into a foetal position over the living room rug. Her crying decreases, she doesn’t moan anymore, but she remains sad. She closes her eyes and has a vision.

Three men, one is playing the piano, another is playing the violin and the last one is playing a cello. The masked man approaches her and take her to dance. She is different. She wears a crimson gown, of delicate couture, perfectly moulded to her slim and tiny body. Her hair is long, curly, with little braids and cream ribbons adorning it. She feels in love, motivated, confident. She dances with the masked man and realizes that she is too wearing a mask. While his is a black one, hers is white.

She whispers something at her ear before a spin. When the dance finishes, he kisses her hand and walks away, leaves the hall. She waits and then go after him. They meet near the fountain, decorated with a statue of the goddess Venus. And he was there, waiting for her. He kisses her, he pledges his eternal love and promises to return, then he leaves. Rey – the one from the vision and the other laying down in the rug – cries. The one of the vision cries because he left, the real Rey cries because he didn’t fulfil his promise. He never returned.

Rey opens her eyes, she has a terrible headache as if a hammer banged her several times. She’s dizzy and barely stands on her feet. Her memories return as an avalanche. Rey falls onto the sofa, despaired and the tears are no more. Only sadness and confusion. Memories from another life mingling with those from this life.

She remembers everything. The violin player is in fact de masked gentleman, her older self greatest love. A forbidden love which brought them a deepest suffering. He went to war, promising to return to take the vows with her, even if they had to run away. But he died at the battlefield, leaving her alone, in mourning and without hope, with her heart broken and the strong belief that she couldn’t live without him. Eventually, she gave up to take her own life, but something happened. Someone killed her. She can remember that. She remembers when she was pushed out the balcony, but she couldn’t see who it was.

Suddenly, Rey decides to go after him. An urgent need to find him, even not knowing where he could possibly be on such a big city. She dresses a jacket, she puts her shoes on and she goes to the first place that comes to her mind: the subway.

It seems like Destiny, for when she arrives at the subway, the violin player is there, near the same column where she uses to watch him. He was without his violin, and he’s wearing a cotton black shirt and jeans. Rey is a little embarrassed, she’s wearing only a jacket over her pyjamas – a light white shirt, checkered blue and black trousers. But it seems he had dressed at a hurry too. She realizes that when she gets nearer, his clothes are wrinkled and he has tousled hair.

She stops in front of him. He has red eyes and seem darker now that he is staring intensively at her. It’s different from that morning. She is no longer a stranger, he knows her. He remembers too, she is certain. When her memories returned, so was with his memories.

— Kira — says he. His deep and soft voice gives her the chills again.

— No — answers Rey. — No more Kira. Rey. — She smiles at his puzzled face. — Kylo?

— Kylo, no. It’s Ben now.

— You were Kylo, and I was Kira. — She lowers her head, look at the floor with tears in her eyes. — However...

— A lot of things changed — said he, fulfilling her words unsaid. — But my love stays the same, even after all these centuries. — With his words she rises her head and faces him again. Something inside her stirs, her heart is pounding hard inside her chest. Her blood is rushing, her fingers want to touch him. But the pain… The pain is still there, and it hurts so much, much more than before.

— You didn’t fulfil your promise — she speaks, letting her tears roll down. — You didn’t come back to me.

— I did! — he replied. — My love, I did come back. Three years after the end of the war.

— What?

— You weren’t there.

— No... You died in the war. They told me that and I didn’t believe it, but I received a letter signed by the general and...

— I sent you a letter. I asked you to wait for me, because I would fight and I would return alive, for you. But you didn’t wait for me... You... How could you have chosen such a fate? Why, Kira? — He used that other name, the one who belonged to the woman he loved. She was no longer that woman, even if she had her sorrow. She was Rey now.

— I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t receive any letter, and if I did, I would have waited forever, if necessary, for you.

— Then, why did you kill yourself?!

— What?... No! I didn’t kill myself.

— You jumped out of the balcony!

— I was pushed!

— What?

— I admit I considered suicide, but I gave up. To live without you was better than have no life at all, and I was catholic! But I was murdered.

— They told me you killed yourself. I visited your tomb, you were there, dead! They spoke so many things, everybody said that you jumped out of the balcony. Have any idea how much I suffered?

— No, I don’t know what you’ve suffered, but I am pretty sure that I didn’t jump from any balcony. I was pushed and my murderer lied to you and to everybody!

— Kira...

— Please, don’t call me that name! Don’t call me Kira. Kira is dead!

Ben swallowed hard. A single tear was rolling his cheek and he turned his face away so she can’t see it, but she already did.

— What happened to you? What have you done after... — She swallowed hard too and wiped the tears with her hands. She took a deep breath to proceed. — After you were deceived?

— I left — said he. — Far away. I just wanted to escape that place, I also tried to run from you. But it was useless. I suffered with your memory until the end of my days. I died from tuberculosis.

— Ben! — Rey threw herself into his arms. She cried, her tears wetting his shirt. He putted his arms around her and they shared their suffering. — Never again! Never again, my love! We have a second chance, let’s live our love that was stolen from us.

— Never again — he repeated her words. — I love you.

— I love you. I’ve always had and I always will.

She kissed him and he promptly kissed her back. He had lived and died missing those lips, a longing that consumed him every day. He was reborn to be able to kiss her again.

She was murdered, he was deceived. Both of them suffered because someone else, but love was stronger and, in the end, love was victorious.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, my dear friend André, for translating my fanfic from Portuguese to English. Although you can not see that thank you.  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Valse Sentimentale: https://youtu.be/rUuusqy50yk


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